


The Run Around

by Whisper132



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a member of Japan's hottest idol group, The Run Around, meets a sassy nurse, the entertainment industry is turned on its head, and their lives will never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Charity Gig

Shiraishi's pants were too tight. He told Ana that he needed the pants in a size up if they wanted him to be able to do the choreography for the new song, but she told him a size up would pooch out and emphasize his lack of an ass. Unless he wanted to wear padded underwear to fill out the back and also risk possible fake ass scandal, he would have to wear the thigh crushing pants, suck it in, and hope the sparkly white denim didn't make a eunuch of him by the end of the gig. 

He was doing this for the children, he reminded himself as he shifted in his seat in the hopes of regaining some feeling in his legs. He was also doing this for cash and because his mother signed his life away to the entertainment industry when he was seven years old. After fourteen years of show business, he felt he should be able to just retire and live out his days in a nice apartment in some mountain village somewhere, but his contract stipulated that Osamu Entertainment owned him until he turned forty or fell out of public favor to such an extent that he needed to be fired. And, if he were being honest, maybe Shiraishi liked the attention a bit too much to quit just yet.

"Why are we doing this in the morning? I want to go home." Jirou gave a big yawn and blinked into the company bus that was transporting them to whatever hospital it was they were going to. "Isn't it kinda cruel to make the sick kids get up this early? Let's reschedule." Despite his words, Jirou wasn't a bad guy; he was the first to champion the idea of this free concert/publicity event. He might have added a few caveats to his support had he known they were going to be holding the concert at 8am, but he would undoubtedly be giving his all for the kiddies when the time came.

Shiraishi reached over to pat Jirou on the knee. "I had to get up at 4am for that drama I did last year. Be thankful this isn't a sunrise concert or something."

"Was that the swimming drama?" Kirihara asked from his spot next to Jirou. "Or was that the one about the construction worker? Or the yakuza one?"

"It was the high school one."

Kirihara stared at the ceiling as he thought. "Which high school one was that?"

"The one about that creepy stalker chick and the haunted school." He couldn't blame them for not knowing; he'd been in four high school dramas in the last two years and, honestly, they were all pretty much the same story. At least it made his lines easy to remember.

"So I guess the guy who always gets up at 4 to do morning show segments doesn't get any love in this little pity party." Jackal blew them a kiss and turned his back to them, continuing to nap against the side of the bus. 

Shiraishi thought about telling Jackal that his fanbase was full of kind, respectable girls who weren't trying to claw off his clothes whenever they saw him, but that would just piss Jackal off. Keeping Jackal happy was integral to the group; Jackal was the only one of them who had any vocal training or, if they were being fully honest, any vocal talent at all.

"Do you guys think it's weird that we're in our 20s and still playing high school kids on TV?" Chitose asked from the back of the bus. He was spread across all four rear seats, wrapped in a ratty-looking shawl thing he'd woven from some kind of fancy organic something or other.

"Nobody's complained so far, so I guess the fans don't really care." Shiraishi sure hoped the fans would clue in and let him play an age appropriate role for once. What he wouldn't give for a nice host club drama or a spy film.

The bus stopped. In a burst of speed, the slumped forms inside straightened. Jirou's eyes opened, wide and bright. Chitose shucked his shawl and slid on a sequined jacket. Jackal oiled up his bald head and did a quick vocal warmup. Kirihara checked his teeth to make sure there was no clinging seaweed from the convenience store onigiri he'd eaten on the way. Shiraishi tried, one last time, to wiggle some room into his impossibly tight pants.

Showtime for Osamu Entertainment's star band, The Run Around.

*****

Yukimura Seiichi was on hour 15 of his 18 hour shift. All he wanted in the world was a nap, but he was the lucky loser of the lottery to supervise the children during their meet and greet with some boyband that decided their hospital was the recipient of the yearly publicity pity visit. Yukimura tried to pawn off the work on all of his coworkers who actually wanted to watch the performance, but after he saw the hasty scrawlings on the break roster—all conveniently during the performance—he knew he was stuck monitoring vital signs to make sure the excessive pelvic sways of the choreography weren't too much for their young charges.

"I wonder if they're going to be dressed up," said Yuriko, a nurse who had gone off shift three hours ago but was loitering around in uniform for the sake of the concert. It would have been nice if she used that spare three hours to help Yukimura calm little Keita in D17 down from some night terrors, but Yuriko just sat in one of the chairs at the nurses' station and twirled around in a circle while Keita's screaming filled the ward.

"I hope not. I've always wanted to see Chitose in his street clothes. I bet the tabloids don't do them justice." Mari, first to schedule her conveniently timed break, gave Yuriko a hug around the shoulders. "I'm so glad I decided to become a nurse at this hospital!"

The two women devolved into giggles. Yukimura checked over some charts and grabbed the tray with the morning's first round of medication. "I'll be back." He gave the women his best smile because, as the only male nurse at the hospital, he needed the support of these women to keep him from accidentally doing physical harm to some of the more traditional doctors at the hospital who kept insisting nursing was a women's profession and Yukimura was a lazyass who couldn't make it in 'real' medical school. Closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale, Seiichi centered himself again for the task at hand.

"Uh, excuse me, but where are the kids with cancer and stuff?"

Great, the idiot train pulled in early. "Hello! Welcome to Kantou General Hospital. Please follow me and I'll take you to the space we've sectioned off for you to rest in before the performance. It's not much, but I hope it will meet your needs." Yukimura gripped his tray of medications tightly and prepared for the worst as he guided the members of Japan's hottest boyband to one of the back offices. "I'm afraid I'll have to finish my rounds, but I'll be back to assist you momentarily Mr…"

A blonde hip checked the tall, scraggly haired guy Yukimura was talking to. "Shiraishi. Feel free to call me Kuranosuke." 

Yukimura gave the blonde a quick look over. Not bad, but those pants were going to destroy any hope the guy had of progeny. Probably for the best, really. "Please rest in here." Yukimura opened the office door and waved the men in. "Again, I apologize for the inconvenience and will be back in a moment."

"I'll be waiting right here for you." Shiraishi stepped to the side, letting his bandmates into the room. "Unless you want me to come with you. That tray looks awfully heavy."

"I'm fine, thank you." Yukimura bowed slightly and walked away as quickly as decorum would allow. As he distributed medication to the children, he hoped, if they lived to see adulthood, none of the kids ever turned out to be like the creepy guy in the too tight pants.

*****

"We're here to sing for some dying kids, not to hit on the nurses," Jackal told Shiraishi for the third time. The guy was a real nag.

Chitose used his massive wingspan to pull Jackal and Shiraishi into a group hug. "Now, now, I think we can sing for the dying kids _and_ hit on the nurses at the same time. Why limit the experience?" 

Jackal's eyes widened. "Why do people think you're a decent human being? How is it possible?"

Chitose grinned and squeezed both of his captives a little harder, bringing Shiraishi into the crook of his cedar-scented armpit. "Anything is possible if you set the right intentions."

He thought about telling Jackal not to fight a losing battle, but Shiraishi kind of enjoyed watching their stalwart bandmate flounder in the face of Chitose's unabashed ego. 

"They're completely inappropriate intentions," Jackal said. "Maybe you could set an intention not to get us on the news for indecent behavior."

"Look, I know you're saving yourself for your true Brazilian love, but the rest of us need to get it where we can find it, and—"

"Sorry to interrupt," said a voice from the door that both lifted Shiraishi's heart and somehow turned his blood cold at the same time. "I've finished my rounds and was wondering if any of you gentlemen would care for tea before it's time to start." 

Shiraishi broke free of Chitose's hold and walked up to the sparkling vision in yellow and black scrubs. "Let me help you."

"Give it a rest already," Jirou grumbled. He was sprawled across a low sofa with his head on Kirihara's lap. "The guy's obviously not interested. Let's just go play the set and let these people get on with their lives." After his outburst, Jirou went limp and started to snore softly.

The quiet little smile that flew across Yukimura's lips was pointed at Jirou and not Shiraishi, and for that their dance specialist would suffer on the bus ride back home. "I'll be back with the tea in a moment," Yukimura said, his voice giving nothing away. "Thank you for your patience."

When the gorgeous nurse was gone, Shiraishi rounded on his bandmates. "You guys are going to ruin this for me." He cast a quick look back to the door. Maybe he should just go out there and give chase. The nurse was just playing hard to get. Honestly, who could resist the fine package Shiraishi presented?

"You'll ruin it fine without our help," Kirihara snickered. If the kid weren't the nephew of the boss, Shiraishi would've left him stranded in Okinawa long, long ago. 

"Shh," Jirou grumbled. "I'm trying to sleep."

Kirihara scratched his fingers through Jirou's hair and smiled. "Sorry."

Ugh, those two were disgusting. Shiraishi would never be so sappy. He wondered if Yukimura went in for that kind of fluffy, feel good crap. Nah, the guy seemed more a biter than a snuggler, which was all for the best because—

"Sorry for the delay," Yukimura said as he entered the office again, this time balancing a tray with a tea service. Shiraishi rushed to free him of his burden. "Thanks." The smile Yukimura gave was a lot prettier than the first one Shiraishi'd had directed at him. Maybe this one was the real thing.

"My pleasure." Shiraishi tried hard not to look like he was thinking about other pleasurable things they could do besides play Pass the Tea Tray. "Thanks for taking care of us."

The smile faded and in its place was a thin-lipped, neutral thing that Shiraishi had seen on many a nurse's face. They taught some weird stuff at nursing school. "Kantou General is very honored to have you. If we can offer our services to you at any time during your stay, please don't hesitate to ask. I have been authorized to extend a wide variety of medical benefits to you, including general wellness and STD treatment and prevention services."

"Hey," Chitose said, shoving Shiraishi out of the way, "about that STD stuff—"

*****

_Baby, this racket is the beating of my heart_

So far, Yukimura wasn't impressed. The music the band was dancing to was prerecorded, the dance moves were easily replicable by even the most rhythmically challenged member of the staff (Mana from cardiology), and only one member could actually carry a tune. The hospital might as well have videotaped last year's bonenkai and let the kids watch the pediatricians dance to Beyoncé. 

_Ooh ooh!_

How the blonde with the bad pickup lines managed to get his leg to kick that high in such tight jeans was the most remarkable part of the whole performance—not that Yukimura was paying any special attention to the guy; it was just difficult not to notice that kind of thing when the lights reflected off the bedazzled denim so much.

"I don't get it," little Junichiro said as Yukimura gave the boy's fragile heart a brief listen with a stethoscope. "Why is this cool?"

Junichiro was a good kid. He probably wouldn't live past 16, but in the time he had left, he would no doubt shower the world with a good deal of wisdom via the blog he maintained. "I don't know," Yukimura answered truthfully. "People like strange things sometimes." He patted Junichiro on the head and went to check up on the next patient in line.

_It's the sound of our clashing love-love time_

Yukimura felt a pulling at his sleeve. "What does love-love time mean?" asked 4 year-old Yuuko. 

The tall guy on stage shaking his hips at the cluster of squealing nurses just off stage was going to receive some very special STD test results in the mail next week. Perhaps the crippling panic and despair he felt until the actual results came in would teach him not to present their patients with bad examples of acceptable public behavior. 

"It means a special time when two people sit together on a couch and hug," Yukimura said. He wasn't about to give some lameass excuse to the kid, but he also wasn't going to explain to Yuuko's mother why a weekend charity concert sanctioned by the hospital was the reason for her daughter's sudden epiphanies about human sexual behavior.

_And I want it to last forever_

The bald guy jumped down from their small, portable stage and took Sakura's hand. Sakura had just gone through a rough round of chemotherapy that cost her all of her hair. The smile on her face was the first Yukimura had seen in months.

_No matter what the world tells us_

Why was the blonde guy looking at him? He couldn't possibly…no. Absolutely not.

Yukimura tuned out the concert and focused on his clipboard. Once he was done checking vitals, he needed to get afternoon medications ready.

*****

"Just give it to me. You're not going to use it." Shiraishi lunged for Kirihara but was blocked by Jirou's foot to his chest.

"People are trying to sleep here," Jirou grumbled. "In case you've forgotten, we did three encores, which is two more encores than we were supposed to do." Jirou dug his heel into Shiraishi's sternum. "And I only had a granola bar for breakfast this morning. Are you honestly going to come over here, bugging us for some guy's work schedule, when I'm sleepy and malnourished?"

Shiraishi sat back into his seat and cleared his throat. In a voice he usually reserved for the more high tensioned call and response songs he began, "Since you're so interested in what I would like to do with that shift schedule, let me tell you. All of you. Everything."

"Give him the schedule!" Jackal yelled. "Do _not_ make me listen to this."

"The first day, I'm going to surprise him with flowers halfway through his shift." Shiraishi could see it all in his mind as he spoke. "They're going to be wildflowers, but it'll be a big bouquet. A lower grade flower says that I'm not a crazy, clingy kind of guy, but the quantity shows that I'm into him." He knew just the florist to arrange it, too. It was the #17 bouquet down at the Marui Flower Shop. "After I drop off the flowers, I'll head out for a few hours then head back to the hospital to take him out to lunch."

"Two visits in one day? That's a neon sign for desperation, man." Chitose shook his head and reached over the back of Shiraishi's seat to clap him on the shoulder. "Either you've got it bad or you've got no game at all."

"Why are you encouraging this?" Jackal asked.

Jirou kicked out toward Shiraishi, but his legs were too short to reach. "I'm trying to sleep!"

Shiraishi held his hand out. "Schedule."

Kirihara held the list to his chest.

"For lunch we're going to go to a nice little French place a few blocks from the hospital. I looked it up on my phone while we were waiting for the crowds to clear. He looks like the kind of guy who goes for mostly vegetarian stuff, but he's got feisty eyes, so I'm betting he's probably a real carnivore." Shiraishi's vision lost focus as he recalled Yukimura's face. "I can see it now. We'll sit down and he'll order something rare but in a reasonable price range just in case I'm a flake and stick him with the bill."

"Well at least you're being honest in your delusions," Jackal sighed.

"I'll set some bills down under a placemat so he knows I'm not going to ditch him. That's when I'll slide my foot up his—"

"Take it!" Jirou grabbed the list from Kirihara and threw it at Shiraishi. "Just shut up and never talk to me again."

"Can he just finish with the lunch? It was getting kinda good." Chitose popped open a bottled water. 

Jackal dove to the front of the bus and turned on the radio. "We are going to sit quietly and listen to classical music until we get to the studio." He pointed to Shiraishi. "No more story time. Jirou is trying to nap."

Chitose stuck his tongue out at Jackal before curling up in his seat and throwing his ratty shawl around himself. 

"I'll tell you when we get back to the studio," Shiraishi promised. He ripped off the top portion of the schedule and handed it to Chitose. "You'll have more use of these than I will."

"You're the best."

"Yes, I am."

*****

Taking two weeks of vacation was the best thing Yukimura could've done for himself. Not only had he been able to get his balcony garden back under control (the tomatoes were threatening to invade Fukuyama-san's balcony), but the absolute quiet of his apartment served to reset his temperament after the chaos that stupid boyband left in their wake. Surely everything was back to normal by now. Surely the children were on to their next big obsession (except the ones who were fans of the band to begin with) and the staff would be back to focusing on the business of running the hospital and caring for their patients.

"Hey! Welcome back!"

Yukimura's legs froze up on him mid-stride and he nearly toppled. 

Shiraishi walked out of the administrative island wearing scrubs. "I came around to ask you to lunch, but you were on vacation. After I saw how much work these wonderful ladies were putting in, I decided I would volunteer some time." 

Why weren't his legs moving? Why couldn't he just run in the other direction and use another week of paid vacation? "It's very kind of you to give up your valuable time," Yukimura said because the blonde was looking at him as though he expected a reply.

"Your dedication moved me." Despite the lilting invitation in his words, Shiraishi remained a respectable distance away. Yukimura wasn't sure what to make of the gesture. Perhaps the guy actually did give a damn about the kids.

"I'm sure the children are happy you're here. They enjoyed your concert a great deal." His fellow nurses were also probably happy to have the superstar around, though maybe their hysteria had calmed down if they'd been seeing Shiraishi every day. Whatever. It wasn't Yukimura's problem. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get to work."

Shiraishi held up a clipboard. "I've got our schedule right here."

Nope. Yukimura's legs were still not going to move. " _Our_ schedule?"

"I've gone on rounds with everyone else already." Shiraishi licked his lips and then gave a little bow. "I put myself in your hands."

******

"Stop moving."

"It _hurts_!"

"It won't hurt if you stop moving."

Shiraishi tried to hold as still as possible while Yukimura injected a numbing agent into his arm. "I can't believe the kid bit me. What the hell did I do to him, huh?" 

"We'll stitch it up and it'll be good as new." This was the first time he'd managed to get the nurse to smile at him all day. Too bad he was too horrified by the giant gashes in his arm to really let it sink in.

"The kid hates me," Shiraishi concluded, replaying the last fifteen minutes over in his head. Little Sasuke had been an angel for the last two weeks, happily taking his medications and not letting the fact that both of his legs were broken weigh him down. Today, the cute kid with the broken legs grabbed Shiraishi's arm, pulled the arm to his mouth, and tore in with teeth that were too sharp to be human. And then the brat gnawed on him a bit, ripping off little chunks of flesh that he spit right in Shiraishi's face.

Yukimura frowned down at Shiraishi's arm while he stitched it up. "He doesn't hate you; he's just temperamental."

No, the kid hated him. There was a joyful gleam in his eye as he watched Shiraishi run to the sink to rinse the blood off his arm. And then, once Yukimura entered the room to see what all the screaming was about, the little rat was all smiles again. There was something mentally wrong with Sanada Sasuke.

"How long do you think this is going to take to heal? We've got summer touring coming up."

Yukimura didn't answer for a few moments, his focus on finishing out the last stitches. "That depends. Do you normally heal quickly?" Shiraishi shivered as Yukimura's eyes ran the full length of his body. "You look like you might be a bit underweight, too. If that's the case, then it'll take you longer to heal because your body doesn't have enough resources."

"Gotta fit into the concert pants, so gaining weight is kinda out of the picture. Besides, if I go up so much as half a kilogram, the tabloids would print some big 'Osamu Entertainment Star Goes on Buffet Binge!' story and the boss would kill me." Man, a buffet really sounded good.

Yukimura laughed, but his eyes weren't in it. "Must be tough." 

Shiraishi shrugged. "It's what we signed up for." What his mother signed him up for, really, but the business model was solid and the benefits were good.

"You should talk to our nutritionist. She can recommend a meal plan for you that's got the proper nutrients and won't add weight." He looked Shiraishi up and down again. "A personal trainer could also suggest proper exercise to help you gain muscle to burn off any extra calories."

"Tell you what, let's talk about something else." The company had a nutritionist and a personal trainer, both of whom had told Shiraishi the same things for the last few years, and he had dutifully ignored them. Just because the advice was coming from a medically trained professional that Shiraishi was sweet on didn't change the fact that he didn't want to bother.

"While we're running your blood sample for tetanus and any infections, did you want us to check it for STDs as well?" Yukimura's teeth glinted as he smiled.

"Um…yes, please."

*****

"You could've told us you were friends with a member of The Run Around," Yuriko pouted when Seiichi came into work the next day. "And you could've told us he was going to be here all day." She sighed and threw herself into one of the desk chairs. "Oh, Kuranosuke, I'll always treasure our hour together." She held her clipboard to her chest. "The way you smiled, the way you handed out lollipops—I'll never forget you!"

"An hour? He didn't spend all day with you?" Yukimura shouldn't have been surprised. If figured the guy would want to run away from crazy fangirls. 

"And all we did was talk about you the whole time." She scowled a moment and then a strange sparkle came to her eye. "Are you two—"

"There is no Venn diagram that would ever connect me and a guy like that." Just thinking about it gave Yukimura acid reflux. "When he comes back to get his stitches checked out, why don't you talk to him…like a normal human being." He gave her his best supportive smile (no teeth, just a slight tilt up at the corners of the mouth) and grabbed a stack of paperwork to take down to the lab.

"Hey, I heard you're friends with that guy from The Run Around. Think you can get me an autograph for the wife?" Inoue was a nice guy but not so bright. How he managed to convince someone to marry him was beyond Yukimura's comprehension. Ah well, it took all kinds to make a world, he supposed.

"I'm not friends with anyone famous," Yukimura said while handing off the paperwork. "Sorry to disappoint you. Maybe the event coordinator can put you in touch with the group's representatives." More and more, he was starting to be grateful that Sasuke took a chunk out of Shiraishi's arm. Gossip spread quickly at the hospital, and it would probably be days before everyone understood that Yukimura didn't know—

"Hey! Sorry I'm late for our shift. Took me a while to get this thing on to cover all the stitches." Shiriashi jogged up to join Yukimura and raised an arm wrapped in bandages.

"Inoue wants an autograph for his wife. After you're done with that, you can have Yuriko rewrap your arm so your circulation isn't cut off." Yukimura power walked to the elevators, but Shiraishi was by his side before the elevator came.

"You're mad at me." 

All the deep breathing in the world wasn't going to make this lie come any easier. "Of course not. I'm just busy."

"I'll bet. The other nurses really depend on you a lot. I couldn't get as much time in the last two weeks to volunteer because of some photo shoots, but every time I was here, they were always talking about how you'd know where things were or how to do things if you were here." Shiraishi elbowed Yukimura lightly in the side. "This place would probably collapse if you took too much time off. Still, they said you hadn't been on vacation since you were hired a year ago. That can't be healthy."

"Bills don't pay themselves." The elevator came and Yukimura hurried inside, glad for the somber silence of the crowd within. 

*****

"You wouldn't know it to look at him, but he was such a sickly thing when he was younger." Matsumoto, one of the lab techs, was a wealth of information. He was the oldest member of staff, and he knew everything about everyone. "He spent the better part of the year in the hospital fighting that disease. Bet that's why he became a nurse. They always did manage to get him to smile, even on the bad days." Crinkled eyes looked up toward the ceiling. "And there were plenty of those."

It would be inappropriate to ask what the disease was or if that was the reason Yukimura was such a sourpuss. Still, it gave Shiraishi an important insight into the battle ahead of him. "Thanks for the talk. I should get back upstairs." He waved goodbye to the old man and jogged to the elevators. This was his last week volunteering at the hospital before the band started their dome tour training. If he didn't make his move now, the chance might never come again. Their manager had been quite clear that Shiraishi wasn't to return to volunteering after tour season was over. The company passed up on two commercial slots because of Shiraishi, and they wouldn't 'humor his hobbies' after this week.

"There you are! Yukimura had some personal errands to run, so he said you should go around with Karin until he gets in." Yuriko handed him a clipboard. "He looked like he was in a bad mood earlier, but he's in the middle of a double shift, so maybe it's just sleep deprivation." Though she was beyond annoying Shiraishi's first week at the hospital, Yuriko had become something of his co-conspirator. She understood, without Shiraishi having ever said a word, that nothing was ever going to come between them and, should she say anything negative about him to Yukimura, Shiraishi would ensure that her career ended and her life became a shambles reminiscent to Chitose's dressing room after the third costume change.

Shiraishi skimmed the list of patients to whom he was supposed to deliver snack sets. "Not Sasuke," he groaned. His arm still hadn't fully healed from the little brat and his deadly spit. Even though he made sure to use the antibiotic ointment Yukimura gave him, the bites got infected and now he was stuck with these bandages on his arm. Some stupid paparazzi took a picture of him walking to the grocery store with them on, and now all the groupies were wearing medical bandages like it was some sort of Harajuku fad. The band's stylist even suggested he keep them and let it become his "thing."

"Karin can get Sasuke." Yuriko slapped a post-it note on the clipboard.

The string of numbers made Shiraishi's stomach do flips. "Is this—"

"If he finds out I gave this to you, he's going to kill me." Yuriko winked at him. "Thanks for that autograph for my sister's wedding."

All he did was sign a couple of prescription pads, prescribing eternal love for the happy couple. He'd done the same for a Valentine's Day fan event last year. "Any time." He tucked the number into his pocket and went off to find Karin.

*****

Yukimura sat down in the corner of a small café down the street from the hospital. The message left at the reception desk for him was very specific that he sit in the table behind the fake palm tree on the other side of the café from the restroom. If this was Shiraishi's underhanded way of getting a date, Yukimura would be very disappointed. Shiraishi could do much better than a budget café.

"Thanks for coming." A figure in a black suit and sunglasses sat down. "Sorry to pull you away from work."

"Just tell me what you want so I can get back to my shift." After more than 24 hours on the job, Yukimura wanted nothing more in life than pajamas and a dark room to sleep in. 

"Ah, this is pretty awkward for me to be saying, but you've got to back off." Now that Yukimura thought about it, the nappy hair currently slicked back with pomade was familiar.

"I'm sorry your boyfriend is spending too much time at the hospital. Perhaps you would like to take him home so the rest of us can work in peace?" Seiichi ignored the small, hissing thought in the back of his mind that doing his shifts without Shiraishi's poor attempts at flirting would be pretty boring. 

Long arms waved around in front of Shiraishi's bandmate. "You've got it all wrong! He's totally into you, but we've got these contracts, see, and we can't…oh crap."

Yukimura didn't need to turn around to know that Shiraishi was standing behind him; Shiraishi's allergies were acting up the last few days and he had a telltale wheeze in his breathing because of it.

"What part of mind your own business didn't you understand?" There was an admirable grace to Shiraishi's movements, probably because of all the dancing. "I said I'd be back next week, so just leave it."

"Look, man, Osamu paid us a visit. A physical visit. One where he got off his ass, left his place, and spoke to us without a secretary reading a memo." The green cast to the guy's face said that the head of Osamu Entertainment wasn't a man to be trifled with. "You need to get your ass back in gear and stop feeding things to the tabloids. We've got an image."

Yukimura wondered what the guy's hobo-yakuza-chic look was contributing to their image. "I'm going back to work." He swallowed down his vanilla latte and stood to leave.

"Careful!" 

The world swam as a wave of dizziness hit and Yukimura nearly fell to the ground. Had Shiraishi not caught him, his head and the fake palm would have gone to battle.

"I'm fine. Thanks." Yukimura let Shiriashi help him to his feet. "Really, I'm alright," he said when, after he'd regained his balance, Shiraishi's arms remained wrapped around him.

A flash went off, but Yukimura couldn't tell from where and couldn't quite piece together why it should bother him. Everything was still a bit twisty in his brain.

"We'll get one of the nurses to check you over at the hospital. You're probably just tired from working so long." Shiraishi still hadn't let go, and while his fingers sliding through Yukimura's hair were freakishly soothing, it wasn't appropriate in a public place.

Another flash. Shiraishi moved back a step. Looking around, Yukimura couldn't find Shiraishi's bandmate anywhere.

"It's just another few hours until I get off," Yukimura said, turning over his shoulder to smile at Shiraishi, who didn't look quite as vile as he usually did. "I'll be fine."

Shiraishi guided Yukimura out of the shop with a hand to the middle of his back. "Let's get you checked out. We'll deal with everything else after."

Yukimura didn't understand what 'everything else' could be until three hours later.

*****

Shiraishi stared at himself holding Yukimura and wished his on-screen self looked a little less goofy in the face. If he'd had a serious expression, the ticker at the bottom proclaiming "TRA Member's Secret Love Revealed!" might lose a bit of credibility. He didn't even remember petting Yukimura's hair, but the photos on the nightly news showed that he clearly had.

His phone rang for the third time, and he was afraid to answer it. The caller ID told him the head office was calling him—probably to fire him—and he was having enough of a time trying to figure out how he could keep the inevitable horde of reporters from descending on Yukimura and making his life hell. He would gladly be fired tomorrow or the next day. Tonight was his night to make a plan.

On TV, a reporter stood outside a familiar building. "We've confirmed that TRA member Shiraishi's alleged boyfriend works as a nurse here at Kantou General Hospital. No comment has come from the hospital regarding the identity of the man, but external sources say the pair may have met at the group's charity event last month." Publicity video from the charity concert played in the corner while the reporter continued on. "We will continue to monitor the situation in hopes of shedding some light on this story."

Looking at the post-it note Yuriko gave him, Shiraishi took a deep breath, picked up his phone, and dialed. Yukimura probably wouldn't answer, but—

"If this is who I think it is, you better start explaining now."

"I didn't have anything to do with this." In Shiraishi's more devious dreams, he hired Chitose to take a few photos of Shiraishi and Yukimura in a series of domestic scenes at the hospital, but he never shared them with anyone. "Did you get yourself checked out? Are you okay?"

"There are paparazzi clinging to every square inch of the hospital. I need to go to work."

Shiraishi stood and paced across his living room. "I don't care about the paparazzi; I care that you passed out and haven't had an exam to see if you're okay."

The phone's reception made Yukimura's snort sound like an elephant. "I'm fine. Thank you for your semblance of concern. I'd be much happier if you'd stop trying to ruin my life."

Shiraishi stared at the "call ended" notification until his phone began to ring again. This time, he answered it. "Yeah?"

"If you really wanted to get yourself a steady man, you could've asked us. We would've found someone a bit more photogenic." There was a raspy quality to Watanabe Osamu's voice that made him sound like an overly friendly mechanical reptile. "But, since the damage is done, let's get down to business. Do you want to keep him?"

"Yes," was out of Shiraishi's mouth before he could explain that he didn't really "have" Yukimura in the first place.

"We'll send a car for you in one hour."

*****

"Hello, my name is Hanamura. I work for Osamu Entertainment. Osamu would like to speak with you." The woman at Yukimura's door looked like someone sent into a scene just before the building caught fire, the one who made you an offer you couldn't refuse.

"And I assume I'm to come with you?" If anyone tried to drag him from his home, he had a can of pepper spray clipped to his belt that said otherwise.

"Of course not." Hanamura smiled and looked to the side. "Please pardon the intrusion." She pushed through, looked around, and waved in what appeared to be a homeless man.

"Sorry about all of this," the hobo said. "You probably expected this when you two hooked up, but it's never a fun thing, huh?" The hobo removed his floppy hat, revealing a head of golden hair.

"I'm not dating your son," Yukimura said. "He's just a volunteer at the hospital. I fainted and he caught me." And perhaps they were becoming something that could be loosely defined as friends, but he didn't really want to say that to someone who knew his address and, despite looking homeless, smelled of expensive cologne.

"The kid's not my son, just an employee. Though I guess all my boys are a bit like my sons." The man seemed to have genuine affection for his employees. "I spoke to the boy earlier, and he said he wanted to continue seeing you, so I figured we should get together and develop a strategy." 

"We're not seeing each other." Yukimura looked toward Hanamura for help, but she was busy looking at his curio of glass flowers. 

"Well, as far as the country is concerned, you are, and Shiraishi likes you, so you might want to give it a try. My publicity manager tells me that this could actually be pretty good for the band. I certainly wouldn't mind sharing some of the benefits of that with the hospital. I'm sure the children would like a new wing with state of the art equipment."

The pepper spray clipped to Yukimura's belt felt like a solid and comforting presence. "No, thank you, I—"

The front door opened and Shiraishi stepped in. He froze a moment before closing and locking the door. "I didn't know you lived here, and this wasn't my idea."

"Kuranosuke, come have a seat. I was just speaking to Yukimura about your relationship."

"We're not in a relationship," Shiraishi said, much to Yukimura's surprise. "I was hoping we could be eventually, but this," Shiraishi indicated the scene in the apartment, "isn't helping."

Yukimura thought about the staff at the hospital and all the kids they could help if their equipment were updated. He thought about his mother, who was texting him about his new boyfriend and asking if he'd had Shiraishi tested for diseases because "a boy like that must get around." He thought about the last week and how it was somewhat nice to have someone to talk to about the hospital who wasn't someone from the hospital. He thought about those sparkly, too tight pants.

"Actually," Yukimura said, "Mr. Watanabe thinks we might be able to make it work."


	2. TV Boyfriends

If they were going to make this work, they had to play their parts perfectly. Admittedly, his plan wasn't the most exciting, but it was the most effective way to achieve their goal. In this case, the goal was getting the press to leave them alone so Shiraishi could stop living in Yukimura's small apartment.

"Why is the milk in the door? Milk belongs on the top shelf next to the water pitcher." Yukimura was dressed in very well worn aqua sweatpants, and his hair was sticking in all directions. "Why don't you put that on your little list?"

"It's not a list; it's an agenda." They'd been over this every day of the last month they'd been living together. Shiraishi wanted to organize the refrigerator to maximize access to the most commonly used items. Yukimura wanted things his way. Shiraishi wanted to clear out some of the clutter in Yukimura's closet and simplify his collection of scrubs, cutting thirty minutes of very loud clothing deliberation out of Yukimura's morning routine. Yukimura wanted things his way. Shiraishi wanted to make sure they scheduled enough time outside the apartment in designated high press areas instead of just coming home and watching tennis on TV. Yukimura agreed to the plan but only after the tennis season was finished.

"I have four days off, and I'd rather not spend them fighting with you about where the milk goes in _my_ refrigerator." 

Shiriashi quickly glanced down at the agenda he'd made for the day. The agenda indicated that he and Yukimura should go to brunch and then wander the shopping district while holding hands. Once an appropriate number of young girls with their cell phones out were present, he'd give Yukimura a light kiss on the cheek. Eventually their relationship would saturate the internet, they'd be old news, and he and Yukimura could get back to their lives.

The only problem with the plan was that Yukimura got in late last night after doing last minute coverage in the ER. Even though he hadn't come in until 3:30, he was still up at 6 for his Tuesday call to his grandmother. Dragging him out into public when he was so exhausted would be cruel and make for very ugly photos. They could brunch tomorrow. 

"Get the milk back out. I'll make us something to eat." Shiraishi grabbed a skillet— _his_ skillet—from a hook on the wall. "Will omelets work, or do you want a traditional breakfast?" Truth be told, he couldn't cook fish to save his life, but he could maybe give it a try.

Yukimura grabbed the milk and set it on the counter. "I'll eat whatever you want to make."

The quiet, tired smile Yukimura gave him did a strange, twisting thing to Shiraishi's stomach. "Omelets and French toast it is, then." From the corner of his eye, Shiraishi saw Yukimura rearrange the contents of the fridge. It wouldn't maximize efficiency, but it was a start.

***** 

"Hey Seiichi, what's up?" Chitose, dressed in his ratty poncho, swooped down and gave Yukimura a hug. "Been a while."

Shiriashi wedged himself between Chitose and Yukimura, separating them and sparing Yukimura from the overwhelming scent of sandalwood. "He came to rehearsals yesterday."

Chitose slid past Shiraishi and continued to drape himself over Yukimura. "Those nighttime hours are lonely, and Seiichi really _gets_ me."

Yukimura reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. "He's just waiting for this." He handed the envelope to Chitose, and the tall man stepped back to rip it open. "Three in one month is the limit. You'll have to pay next time."

Kirihara jumped out of nowhere and stole the paper from Chitose. "It says here he doesn't have any STDs. How can that be right?" He threw the paper in with the burnable garbage. "Maybe he keeps checking because something is burning."

"We are here to practice," Jackal called from the doorway. "If we could try to get through the full concert today before we do final light and costumes, it would be very nice."

It was always a wonder how Jackal managed to wrangle the members of the group into some sort of order. Perhaps it was because he always looked on the verge of tears. "I'll just sit in the corner," Yukimura said. 

"You don't have to stay for the whole thing." Shiraishi's words and the little note he'd written on the "agenda" were at odds with one another. Yukimura chose the safest route and went with the agenda. Shiraishi's altruism was probably some calculated ploy to get his bandmates to think they were actually a lovey dovey couple.

"I like watching you." It was only a partial lie. Watching the band practice in their street clothes or boring grey warmups wasn't the most visually appealing, but there was always a point about halfway through the rehearsal where they got a bit too warm from all the singing and dancing, forcing them to remove their shirts, and Yukimura couldn't object to a view like that.

"I like it when you watch me." Shiraishi used a crooked finger to tilt Yukimura's chin up and give him a light brush on the lips.

Flash.

"Chitose! Put the phone down and get in position."

Poor Jackal.

*****

Shiraishi bolted awake and nearly hit his head on Yukimura's bedside table. Seiichi was very clear that they would never share his luxurious memory foam bed and, for the duration of their charade, Shiraishi would use a very comfortable futon on the floor that Shiraishi paid for from the "settling in" funds Osamu gave them. 

"What's the matter? Did I wake you?" Yukimura peered down at him, toothbrush dangling out of his mouth. 

"Are you just getting in or just heading out?" Shiraishi asked. It was a concert month, and he was due to leave for Osaka in two days. They had four days of rehearsal in the dome before three nights of concerts.

"Just getting in. It's around 2 in the morning."

Shiraishi stretched and winced when something between his shoulders gave a loud pop. "I think the choreography is actually going to kill me this time," he laughed.

Yukimura disappeared for a moment and returned without the toothbrush. He stopped at the foot of Shiraishi's futon and stared down at him with a grimace. "Take the bed. You'll hurt yourself if you don't get some decent rest before work." 

"What about you?"

"I'll take the futon. It's just a few nights anyway." Yukimura bent down, picked Shiraishi up, and set him on the bed.

It took Shiraishi a solid minute to realize he'd just been relocated in a damsel hold. "I didn't know you were that strong."

Yukimura shrugged. "I lift kids all day. It's good strength training." He rearranged the futon blankets and slipped under them. "Get some rest." Seiichi's light snoring soon followed, but Shiraishi couldn't seem to get back to sleep after his dream.

He was back at the press conference they'd held to discuss his relationship with Yukimura, proudly declaring their love in front of all of Japan. Osamu gave a moving speech about their company embracing all forms of love, then Shiraishi spoke about how his time volunteering at the hospital had opened his eyes to the joys of service. He told the people of Japan that the honesty of the children infected him and he couldn't deny his attraction to the strong willed nurse who so masterfully kept the children in check during the concert. He was in love, he told Japan, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. He would stand by Yukimura Seiichi until the day he died.

And then, in his dream, the scene split from memory and he was sitting on Yukimura's sofa, watching pro tennis and grumbling about the excessively flashy nature of modern tennis moves. He turned to see Seiichi in those awful yellow and black scrubs with his hair barely held back in a decaying rubber band. And then Seiichi turned and said something Shiraishi knew he'd never hear, something so improbable it threw him from his sleep and into wakefulness.

"I want you."

*****

Yukimura was starving. When he woke up at 4:30 that morning, everything in the fridge looked disgusting, and the thought of convenience store onigiri for breakfast made Yukimura want to kick something. It was all Shiraishi's fault. Before the pushy blonde and his agendas came into Yukimura's life, toast was an acceptable meal at any time of day. After two months of omelets and French toast and strange dishes made of random things that somehow tasted amazing, Yukimura was spoiled for common breakfast items. 

"Aw, are you pouting?" Yuriko gave Seiichi's shoulders a squeeze before shuffling past him to get the medication tray. "How long's he going to be gone?"

"I'm not pouting." He never pouted. Pouting was for children. "He's in Osaka for a couple weeks, I think."

"You think?" Yuriko rattled a pill bottle at him. "You are the worst boyfriend in the world. Did you even _ask_ when he'd be back?"

Yukimura had not, but he couldn't tell her that. "He said—"

"You didn't ask at all." She shook the bottle again. "And I'll bet he's all sad while he's sitting on the plane, thinking about how you don't love him enough to miss him while he's gone." She sighed and turned her back to him.

Somewhere, someone was having miso soup and mackerel. Yukimura could smell it. Was it the cafeteria? Did they sell those things? If so, how come he hadn't been in there for breakfast before?

"I'll be right back." Yukimura grabbed his wallet and cell phone. His shift didn't technically start for another twenty minutes. That would be plenty of time to— the phone buzzed in his hand.

_Yuriko texted me and told me that you miss me. Did you eat breakfast?_

Even some fresh rice would work at this point; anything to keep his stomach from eating itself. While he navigated the queue, he texted back.

_I'm getting something to eat now. Don't listen to Yuriko; she goes to doujinshi conventions and has weird ideas about how gay relationships work. Why does she have your number anyway?_

Yes! There was grilled mackerel enough to last for days!

_I told her to keep an eye on you since I'm not around. Who knows what kind of crazy paparazzi will try to get their hands on you to find out our intimate details._ (-_^)

"Two pieces of mackerel, a bowl of rice, and some miso soup, please." Yukimura bounced on his toes as the server prepared his tray. 

_Like how I popped that zit on your back yesterday and you cried?_

_It was not a zit; it was just a stress expression._

"Enjoy your breakfast."

"Thanks, I will." He only had fifteen minutes left before his shift, but that should be enough time to eat. He took a quick photo of his tray.

_See, I'm eating._

The mackerel was a bit rubbery and the miso didn't have enough paste in it. Still, it was better than toast. Maybe if he got in when it was fresh it would be better.

_I'll be back home next Monday. Nagoya Dome isn't for another few weeks._

_Good. Bring back souvenirs._

A photo came through of Shiraishi surrounded by uchiwa with his face on them. 

_One of these?_

Yukimura laughed, almost spitting out a mouthful of rice. He swallowed it down quickly when something in the conversation caught his eye.

Home.

_Time for work! Bye!_

He turned off his phone, ate the rest of his breakfast, and began the work day.

*****

After three months, the press should have been tired of Japan's token gay couple. They should have moved on to adultery and murder and illegitimate children. 

"It's not going to happen. He'll never agree to it." Shiriashi felt like he was saying that to Osamu a little too much lately. 

Hanamura flipped through the papers on her clipboard until she found a graph. "These are the projected ratings. He would only need to do a few guest spots, not any actual acting." She flipped to another chart. "These are the figures for your salaries."

That was a lot of money. He wasn't really surprised by the figures next to his name; honestly, he'd made more for a few of his dramas last year, but the amount they were willing to give Seiichi for what amounted to a total of ten lines and twenty minutes of screen time across 24 episodes was substantial.

"We're just asking you to talk to him," Osamu said. "We've already discussed it with the hospital, and they're more than agreeable."

The hospital was agreeable because Osamu kept writing them checks for new equipment. 

"Aren't people tired of vampire dramas?" Shiraishi toyed with the bandages on his arm, his signature look and daily burden.

"They're tired of the same old vampire dramas," Hanamura said. She flipped to another chart. "This poll indicates that a new sub-genre has opened up and, as it so happens, our company is well equipped to supply what the people want."

"Just take the sample scripts and the figures home to your man and talk about it." Osamu gave a wave and Hanamura escorted Shiraishi out of the office. "I'll let the studio know our answer."

How the hell was Shiraishi going to convince Yukimura to guest star in a vampire drama as his reincarnated soulmate?

*****

"Makoto!"

Yukimura tried to turn as slowly as possible while Shiraishi ran toward him as slowly as possible…for the fifteenth time.

"Cut!"

Acting was a bigger pain than Yukimura thought it would be. First he wasn't turning slowly enough, then Shiriashi wasn't running slowly enough, then they both didn't have the right awestruck expressions.

"You've got to look at one another as though you're going to drown in each other," director Ohtori said.

What did that even mean? If Yukimura tried to give Shiraishi one of those romance looks, they'd both end up laughing. A quick glance over to Shiraishi told Yukimura that they were thinking the same thing.

"Basically, we want you to really cheese it up," said assistant director Gakuto. "Make it so sappy that you want to puke."

"I think I've got it," Shiraishi said, "but can we do one take without the running?"

"Knock yourself out." Gakuto walked back toward the cameraman and started giving directions for the shot. "We'll just keep rolling."

Shiraishi came over to Yukimura, fingers fiddling with his bandages. "I can't believe I have to wear these stupid things in the drama, too."

Yukimura batted his hand away. "You always wrap them too loosely at the wrist and elbow. Did you use the adhesive I brought you? That'll help keep them in place provided they're wrapped properly." He started unwinding the bandages. "At least the arm didn't scar too badly after the infection." He trailed his finger lightly over the bite shaped markings. "In a few more months, they'll probably be gone altogether."

Shiraishi was strangely quiet as Yukimura finished bandaging him up. It wasn't until the wrappings were in their place that he reached up, hand cupping the side of Seiichi's face. "This may be hard to believe, but you are the one that is destined for me. I have loved you, over and over again, for hundreds of years. I have loved you as a woman, and now I will love you as a man." He pulled Yukimura's head forward until the warmth of his breath left a moist heat on Yukimura's face. "Remember me, my love."

He managed to pull back in time to avoid the lips seeking his. "I don't know you," he whispered, his voice delivering the line more delicately than he intended.

"I love you," Shiraishi said, moving forward. "Remember me."

"Cut!" Ohtori smiled as he bound forward. "That was perfect. We'll do a fade out from here to the next scene." He walked away, mumbling to himself.

"Take a break, guys," Gakuto said. "You did good."

Yukimura closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He pushed away the fluttering just below his bellybutton and quieted the thundering of his heart. This was acting, and this was money. He was pretending to be Shiraishi's boyfriend pretending to be a vampire's lover. That was all.

*****

"Isn't it about time you guys had the big breakup?" Chitose asked. He threw his feet up onto the back of Shiraishi's seat on the plane.

"It's only been six months," Jackal said. 

"It's the longest any of his relationships have ever lasted," Kirihara snickered. "Maybe he's bribing the guy."

Shiraishi winced at how close to the truth the comment cut. To keep their ruse a secret, only Osamu, Hanamura, Yukimura, and Shiriashi knew about their grand plan. Yukimura was contractually bound to Shiraishi for the year, at which point Seiichi was free to do whatever he wanted. In another six months, Shiraishi would be shopping for an apartment and back to skipping meals because cooking for one was too much effort. He'd come home to perfectly arranged furniture, hit on all the pretty people he passed, and make more money than was reasonable for his level of talent.

"Hey, we didn't mean to bring you down." Chitose patted Shiraishi's head with his bare foot. "And at least you'll always have your drama, right? After it airs, they're going to release the Blu-ray. You can buy it and play it obsessively once you two have split."

"Why don't you just take your foot and put it in your mouth?" Jirou asked. "I'm trying to sleep, and you're being a jerk. The guy's stressed enough as it is. Leave him alone." He punctuated his declaration by pulling a small blanket over his head and throwing himself down on Kirihara's lap.

Filming that drama had been…meaningful in a way that Shiraishi hadn't been expecting. Seiichi was only on the set three times, but each and every time he came, there was a radiance about him that made pretending to love him surprisingly easy. Their conversations had gotten more friendly since the filming as well. Yukimura even let Shiraishi say hello to his grandmother during one of their Tuesday morning calls. The old woman sounded like a kind but no-nonsense person, and Shiraishi had immediately started planning a vacation up to Hokkaido to visit her. She said that Seiichi hadn't been able to make it up there because of work, but she was hoping he'd be able to visit after he settled in more. 

"Hey Jirou." Shiraishi pulled the blanket off Jirou's head. "You've got a house up in Sapporo, right? Think I could borrow it?"

Jirou sat up, blinked his eyes, and focused his attention on Shiraishi. "When do you need it?"

"Hold on a sec." Shiraishi sent off a quick text to Yuriko to see when Seiichi's next long break was scheduled. "Looks like week after next. We'd only be using it for two days."

"Sure. I'll bring the keys and address to practice tomorrow." Jirou turned to Kirihara. "Remind me to put it in my bag tonight."

Kirihara took out a pen and wrote something on his hand. "Got it."

"Why aren't the press following you two around?" Jackal wondered aloud.

Jirou smiled and snuggled back into his blanket. "We're boring."

Shiraishi thought about Yukimura sitting on the couch in his decaying teal sweatpants, bitching about how slowly some tennis pro moved across the courts while eating ice cream out of a pint container with chopsticks because he was too lazy to clean off a spoon. "We're pretty boring, too."

*****

This was the last double shift he was doing for at least a month, Yukimura promised himself. The check from the drama had come this week, and it was enough to cover his extra expenses for a couple months. Now was the time to relax a bit and truly enjoy the four days off he had before his next stretch. He would begin with a hot bath while Shiraishi cooked dinner. After dinner, there was a pint of vanilla ice cream with his name on it—literally. He had to mark his ice cream so it couldn't be confused with Shiraishi's ice cream, which was exactly the same as Seiichi's but consumed at twice the rate. For such a skinny guy, Shiraishi could sure pack away the sweets when he wanted to.

"I'm home!" he called into the apartment. Sometime in the last month or so, he stopped feeling sick to his stomach when he said it.

"Welcome back!" Shiraishi came out of the kitchen in a green and yellow apron. "I'm making gyouza and okonomiyaki. What do you want in yours? The usual?"

"Extra squid tempura. I'm starving." Seiichi put a small paper bag on the counter. "I brought you some more bandages and adhesive from work. Did you find out when you can stop wearing them?" He already knew the answer, but sometimes watching Shiraishi's grimace was fun.

"Osamu's working out an endorsement with a medical supply company. I'll be stuck in these things for life." He snatched the bag off the counter and peered inside. "Thanks."

"Let me know what brand they decide on. I can tell you if you'll have a reaction or not." Shiraishi's skin was surprisingly sensitive. He had a fairly serious metal allergy and hadn't known it until Seiichi pointed out that his jeans shouldn't be making his abdomen blister and itch. Some medical tape over the metal solved the problem handily, though.

"Are you going to take a bath before dinner or after?" 

Yukimura followed Shiraishi to the medicine cabinet to put away the supplies. "I need a shower, then I thought I might take a bath afterwards."

"Okay, I'll get things set up, but I'll wait until you're done to cook." Shiraishi bent down and pulled out the bath salts. "We're almost out, so don't use them all. We'll get some more when we get back."

"Where are we going? I thought we didn't have to do anything else for that show until after it airs." Seiichi's contract included one appearance on a talk show. There was a fourth payment coming for that appearance, and Yukimura was greatly looking forward to it.

"I got us tickets to go up and visit your grandmother in Sapporo. I thought you might like to do some travelling on your days off. Jirou's lending us his place and—"

Later, Yukimura would lie in bed and wonder what kind of demon possessed him in that moment, what horrible specter entered him and drove him to fling himself at Shiraishi and seal their lips together. In the moment, he felt such ridiculous joy as Shiraishi dropped the bath salts and wrapped his arms around him. They remained locked like that for several moments until Seiichi caught sight of them in the bathroom mirror and fled to his room.

"I'm starting dinner now!" Shiraishi called.

"Extra squid tempura!" Yukimura called back. Just because he was mortified didn't mean he was stupid enough to skip dinner.

*****

Yukimura's grandmother looked young enough to be his mother. If this was how Seiichi was going to age, the world was in for a treat. 

"You're such a good man, taking care of my boy for me." A solid, warm hand took hold of Shiraishi's. "He can be a bit stubborn, but his heart's always in the right place."

In the face of the wise, honest eyes looking up at him, Shiraishi felt a bit of weariness creep in. He looked around to make sure Yukimura was still out of the room before saying, "We're not really dating. He just agreed to it—"

"For the money. Yes, I know." The deep lines around her smile were perhaps one of the only signs of the eighty-three years of life she'd seen. "We talked about it a while ago. That boy's been paying for my care since his father lost his job a year ago." She looked away from Shiraishi and out a window. "His father is going to start work at a new company soon, so Seiichi will be able to relax a little bit."

Shiraishi followed her gaze out the window to see Yukimura helping an old man in the community garden. "I guess that'll be it, then. It'll be over." He'd seen Seiichi at work on his balcony garden, but to see him in a truly lush setting was breathtaking.

"He puts up a lot of fuss, but he never agrees to do anything he doesn't want to do, not even for money." Yukimura's grandmother took his hand in hers again. 

"I don't think—"

"Best you don't, dear. In my experience, thinking just ruins things." The old woman had the audacity to smack him on ass. "Go get some sun and help my boy weed that garden."

Shiraishi gave Yukimura's grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "Yes, ma'am."

***** 

After visiting his grandmother, they'd gone around to some of the local tourist traps. It was the most fun Yukimura could remember having in his life, including the time his family went to Tokyo Disneyland for his birthday. Tokyo Disneyland didn't have butter ramen.

"I'm going to take a shower and head to bed. I promised your grandma we'd stop by early and take her out to breakfast." Shiraishi hunted around the hall cabinets until he found the towels. "The bedroom's down the hall, last door on the right. I'll take the couch." He tossed Yukimura a towel. "Need me to wake you up?"

The towel in his hands was plush and expensive looking. "Actually—" Something thick hit the back of this throat and he had to clear it again. "I was thinking—" Again he cleared his throat. "The bed is bigger than mine, so we can probably share." 

Shiraishi was blushing, and it was just the tiniest bit adorable. "Okay." 

"The couch would hurt your back, and you still have three legs left on your tour, right? As a medical professional, I can't let you enter into such a dangerous situation if it's within my power to stop you." He was rambling and needed to stop before he made a fool of himself. "Go take your shower."

Shiraishi started to slowly back up toward the bathroom. "I will."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Laughing, Yukimura threw his towel at Shiraishi's head. "Hurry up."

Shiraishi gave a crooked grin and hustled into the bathroom. The tap turned on moments after, and Yukimura was free to bury his face in his hands and wonder just what he had been thinking.

*****

Sapporo was wonderful, far better than Shiraishi could have ever imagined it would be. For two nights, he fell asleep to the soft sound of Yukimura's snoring and awoke to the fluffy bounty of Yukimura's pillow hitting his face while Seiichi told him to get his lazy ass out of bed before they were late to meet his grandmother. It was everything all the crappy dramas he'd been in promised it would be.

"Put the futon away before you leave," Yukimura grumbled from his bed. "I tripped on it last time."

Now that they were back home, it was business as usual. He slept on the floor, Seiichi slept on the bed, and their work schedules kept them from seeing each other for more than a few hours a day. The band was due to head out to Okinawa for two weeks starting the day after tomorrow, so Shiraishi needed to get some meals prepared and in the freezer before he headed to the practice studio tomorrow. 

"Wake me up when you get up," he told Yukimura. "I'll make breakfast."

Seiichi slid across the bed until his head was hanging over the edge. "Is that a bribe?"

"I'm honored that you think my cooking qualifies as a bribe." Without thinking, he lifted his hand and ran his fingers through Seiichi's hair. "It's not a bribe; I just need to be up early."

Yukimura's eyes sparkled in the light of the dim bedside lamp. "You underestimate the power of French toast."

Did Seiichi really want him to have meant it as a bribe? Would it be okay if he said that the bed was big enough for both of them?

The bedside lamp turned off. "Night!" Seiichi called.

Shiraishi let out a deep sigh and sank into his pillow. "Night," he called back.


	3. Domestication

_Chitose has a sunburn on his ass. Will aloe help that?_

Yukimura snickered and showed the text to the other nurses. "How cruel should I be?" he asked them.

"Say a mixture of Vaseline and lemon juice," Mari suggested. Mari had been in the front row of the final Nagoya Dome concert with a sign that read "Nurses 4 Chitose" that her favorite idol completely ignored. Mari texted Yukimura that night to inform him that she was swearing off The Run Around but would still be civil to Shiraishi when he came around.

_Mari says Vaseline and lemon juice should do the trick._

"There, I told him." He felt bad for Chitose, but he only saw the idol every now and then. Mari brought baked goods in once a month.

_You're kidding, right?_

"He's not falling for it. Think of something better."

"How about facial astringent?" Yuriko suggested. 

Yukimura texted the suggestion and received a heart emoticon in reply. "That'll do it," he told his fellow nurses.

"How did he even get a sunburn like that?" Mari asked. "Not that I'm interested."

"You probably don't want to know." Yukimura gathered a stack of papers that needed to go to radiology. "I'll deliver these and be right back." On the way, he took out his phone and hit the first entry on his autodial.

Shiraishi picked up on the first ring. "He was in some kind of speedo and fell asleep while he was tanning on the roof."

"I didn't call to ask about Chitose's sunburned ass. When are you coming home?" He ducked into an empty exam room. "You've been gone two weeks already."

"The guys wanted to hang out a little before we came back, and Osamu will only send the plane for us once, so I'm stuck for two more days." There was a scratching sound for a moment. "I gotta go soon. I'll call you tonight."

"Usual time?"

"Yeah. And don't forget, our show starts next week. We promised your grandma we'd call her the next morning to see how she liked it."

The idea of Yukimura's grandmother watching them get all sweet on each other on screen was only slightly more embarrassing than when Yukimura and Shiraishi accidentally embraced at the airport when Shiraishi left for Okinawa. The angles on the paparazzi photos made it look like they were making out, which was a lie. It was a quick peck on the lips if anything, and it was only because the floor had just been waxed and Yukimura slipped a bit.

"Talk to you tonight," Yukimura said before disconnecting the call. Gripping the radiology referrals, he continued about his day.

*****

At this point in the tour, Shiraishi was usually surrounded by beautiful men and women, all of whom were vying for his momentary affections. He would select a few of the nicer looking ones, take them back to the hotel, and forget them the next day. 

"Wow! They're huge!"

Now, Shiriashi was at the aquarium with Jirou and Kirihara, wishing they could take a plane home so he could make sure Seiichi was eating and wasn't going to pass out from overexertion. Yuriko sent him a few concerned texts in the last couple days and, while Seiichi claimed to be eating the frozen meals Shiraishi left for him, who knew if he was staying up late watching the sports channel instead of getting proper rest.

"They're whale sharks, Akaya. They're supposed to be huge."

And what if some jackass came into the hospital and tried to make a pass at Seiichi again? And what if Yukimura 'accidentally' ran a supply cart over his foot again? Someone would need to be there to calm Yukimura down, and those vindictive women he worked with weren't a good influence.

"Why does he keep getting that look on his face? Is he constipated?"

Maybe he should just pay for his own flight back. He had the money. 

No, he already told Seiichi he wasn't coming back for two days. Getting home early would make it look like he thought Yukimura couldn't take care of himself, which was more or less what he thought, but he didn't want Yukimura to know that was what he was thinking. 

"He's not constipated; he's just in love and too stupid to realize it."

Seiichi said he'd never been to Okinawa. Maybe he'd have Yukimura come along on the next tour. By then, Seiichi would have plenty of paid vacation built up. And, if not, Shiraishi had more than enough to cover. He'd have to pass it off as a birthday present or something, but that shouldn't be too hard…once he found out when Yukimura's birthday was.

"Shiraishi's not even listening to us, is he?"

Hearing his name, Shiraishi turned to Kirihara. "Did you need something?"

Kirihara looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, as though Shiraishi were a puzzle he was trying to put together. "Come look at the whale sharks," he said. "They're huge."

"Of course they are," Shiraishi said. "They're whale sharks. They're supposed to be huge."

*****

Despite how it appeared, Yukimura was not anxious for Shiraishi to come home. He didn't really care that the plane out of Okinawa was delayed and that delay could have been an engine issue that would ultimately lead to the plane plunging into the ocean. The odds were that Shiraishi would return with his excessive luggage, complain that his back hurt because of impractical choreography, and flop onto the couch for a few hours to catch up on his ridiculous dramas.

"You look like you're going to be sick. Need a checkup?" Yuriko slinked toward him with her stethoscope poised. 

"I'm fine." Yuriko didn't need to know about the talking to his grandmother had given him the night before and how, after hearing her disappointment in him for keeping Shiraishi on a floor in his somewhat cramped apartment, Seiichi was trying to figure out what, exactly, he was supposed to do to make his grandmother happy.

"Jackal did an interview for AnAn while they were in Okinawa." Mari held up her phone. "There's a snippet on the blog." Mari's phone was older and the screen was cracked in three places, making the photo of Jackal look as if he had a very angry unibrow. "Is he as good looking in person?" Mari asked, pulling the phone to her chest.

"I'm not really sure how to answer that." Yukimura thought about his limited interactions with Jackal. Most of them consisted of Jackal lamenting his fate as the only rational one in the group. "His head is a bit shinier and he smiles a bit less."

"Ooh! He's really the serious type?"

"Sure." The plane was due to land in thirty minutes. Maybe he should check the airline's website and make sure everything was okay. He didn't get off work for another three hours, and Shiraishi was supposed to come pick him up. If the plane was going to be late, then he needed to catch a ride home with one of the girls because he didn't bring his bus card with him.

"I read online that you and Shiraishi are going to buy a house. Is Jackal coming to the housewarming? Can I come?"

Yukimura turned to face Mari. "What?"

Mari went to the nurse station computer and pulled up a news blog. "Sources say Shiraishi and his boyfriend are planning a joint purchase of property within the next month."

"Their sources are incorrect. My lease isn't even up for another four months." But what then? Should he renew? Should he try to transfer to a two bedroom apartment in the same complex? Was Shiraishi getting tired of dealing with him? Would he have to start cooking his own meals again?

"Great, now he's freaking out. Thanks, Mari." Yuriko grabbed Yukimura by the shoulders and moved him toward the supply cart. "Let's make sure all the exam rooms are prepped."

Seiichi nodded and began pushing the cart out of its corner storage cubby. Taking in a deep breath, he let the stench of antiseptic wash away his worries and focused once more on the care of his patients.

*****

"I will kill you. I will actually kill you." When Shiraishi landed, the first thing he saw on his phone was a text from Yukimura's grandmother wondering if their new house was going to be closer to the hospital or, even better, if they were relocating to Hokkaido. Now Shiraishi was on the phone with Hanamura, who "arranged for some helpful misinformation" to be leaked to the press because she "thought it might help smooth things over" with Yukimura, whom the company deemed "at risk for early termination of contract."

"We've enlisted the aid of a realtor and have several lovely and well secured locations you might like to consider," Hanamura said. Shiraishi could hear her snide laughter churning in the back of her throat, ready to be released when she hung up the phone.

"We're fine the way we are. Leave us alone." Besides, Shiraishi already had some places in mind; he was just waiting for the right time to bring it up. The right time was when the lease renewal came up in a few months, not via the HoTTalk celebrity blog. 

"Please understand that we are concerned about your relationship and only want the best for you. As role models for the young men of Japan, you are serving as a beacon of hope—"

"I wrote that. I know all about the beacon of hope for a more inclusive and tolerant future." 

"Good. I'm glad we're both working toward the same objective."

There was no way Shiraishi's objectives and the objectives of Osamu Entertainment were, in any way, in alignment. "I have a plan already in motion. It will go best if you simply leave us alone."

"Our sources indicate that his lease is up in four months. We expect to be reserving your moving truck in three." Hanamura hung up on him.

The phone rang before Shiraishi could put it back in his pocket. He looked at the caller ID. "Hi, Mom."

*****

Everything was pink. The carpet was pink. The drapes were pink. The absurd little Pomeranian yipping at Yukimura's ankle was pink. 

"I'm sorry about this," Shiraishi said for the third time since they'd entered Shiraishi's childhood home. "When my grandparents died, she redecorated everything. I wanted to call a designer in, but she said she wanted to do it herself." 

"It's fine." In the very unlikely event that he and Shiraishi decided, for the purposes of maintaining their financial agreement, to pursue joint custody of a residence, they were never letting Shiraishi's mother assist with the decorating. "I'm surprised your father let her do it."

"Dad skipped out when I was seven. Turns out he had another family on the side in Fukui. That's why mom took me to the talent search." Shiraishi's eyes softened and he looked down toward the hall his mother had disappeared into. "We moved up from Osaka and stayed here with my grandparents. It was really hard on her for a while, but she started dating again five years ago. No keepers yet, though."

"Kuranosuke, are you gossiping about your mother's love life when the woman who raised you had to hear about your new partner from a grocery store tabloid? Get in this kitchen and help me bring in brunch."

"Don't tell her it's all fake," Shiraishi whispered as he rose from the couch. "Please."

Yukimura grabbed Shiraishi's wrist before he could move too far away. "Is it all fake?" he asked. He knew, for his part, that part of it certainly was. He thought Shiraishi's dancing was laughable and his bandmates were obnoxious. He held Shiraishi's sweaty hand as they walked down the street and tolerated Shiraishi's heavy arm on his shoulder because the press photos were helping to pay for bills that some families couldn't shoulder alone. All of that was as fake as the rhinestones on Shiraishi's concert costumes.

Less fake were the quiet nights on the couch watching TV and eating whatever dish Shiraishi saw on the morning cooking shows he watched. Surprisingly honest were the stupid smiles Seiichi caught himself giving the bootlegged Kuranosuke keychain that one of the doctors had given him because he'd bought it for his daughter and she'd already had it. Deeply authentic was the small worm of an idea that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work for real.

"Are we really going to have this conversation on my mother's couch when she's screaming at me to come get some finger sandwiches?" And then Shiraishi turned his hand so it was holding Yukimura's. "I've got a few brochures for some nice houses and condos we should look at. Show you when we get home?"

Yukimura wanted to look up, he really did, but he couldn't quite bring himself to look anywhere but at his knees. "When we get home," he agreed. 

*****

Shiraishi tried to avoid watching himself on TV. Not only did the camera add weight, but the lines he was saying sounded a lot better when filming scenes disjointedly than when they were strung together. Despite this, he'd promised Seiichi's grandmother that they'd watch the show and call her tomorrow to talk about it. 

"I don't remember filming that," Seiichi said as the opening credit sequence began. For a tenth of a second, Yukimura and Shiraishi were in a heated embrace.

"It's one of the takes from that scene near the fountain." The fountain scene had been particularly awkward to shoot and, thank goodness, wouldn't be airing until the last episode. In the scene, Makoto, Yukimura's character, finally acknowledged his love for Romero, Shiraishi's character, and there was an embrace and kiss sequence that required a crane, a camera track, and an antiquated boom box piping out the montage music so they could choreograph their movements properly. Seiichi kept trying to take over the kiss (instinct, he said), so they had to redo the scene at least fifteen times before they had a shot the director was happy with. Shiraishi may also have accidentally grabbed Seiichi's ass a few times, but none of the cameras were focused there, so it wasn't a big deal.

"I don't want to watch this." Yukimura turned off the TV. 

Shiraishi turned the TV back on. "It's your big debut. We're watching it." He took the batteries out of the remote and tossed them across the room. "You'll be mad at yourself later if you have to lie to your grandmother about watching it." He scooted over until his side was pressed against Seiichi's. "I'll get the ice cream at the next commercial."

"We're out of ice cream." 

There was something mesmerizing in the way Yukimura's eyebrows knit together when he was pouting. First they would fly up, as though Seiichi were surprised at his own displeasure, then they would dive down and in, wrinkling his lower forehead. Then his lips would follow, pursing together into a tight little bundle.

"I bought some when I went to the grocery store this morning." He'd never noticed it much before, but Seiichi's skin was always so cool against his. 

"Did you get butter pecan? We were talking last week, and I—"

Seiichi's lips were dry. Shiraishi would be sure to start pestering Yukimura to drink more water; it was unacceptable for a nurse to be dehydrated. They hadn't felt this chapped when they were filming, but that might have been the lipstick the makeup artist used.

When Yukimura's fingers slid into Shiraishi's hair, Shiraishi wanted to protest that he'd just gotten a deep conditioning, but when his lips moved to form the protest, the fingers tugged a little while the hand pushed a little, and then Shiraishi couldn't remember what he'd been about to say.

In the end, they missed the show completely.

*****

"You can pack yourself into those little pants, but you can't pack the utensils into a box. How is that?" Yukimura used a cooking chopstick to point at the mangled mess in the box labeled Kitchen 1A.

"It's useless to waste our time sorting them because they're going to jostle in shipment. It's more efficient to place them in the small box and then put the small box into a larger box." Shiraishi pointed to the packing list he'd written on the back of a ramen delivery menu.

"The knives are going to cut the chopsticks. My mother sent me those chopsticks when I moved in here." Yukimura grabbed a stack of towels from Kitchen 3. "All you have to do is wrap them in a towel. Why is that so hard?"

"Towels and utensils go in different boxes." Shiraishi again pointed to his list.

Seiichi continued to wrap his utensils. "Just change Kitchen 1A into Kitchen 7 and have it be utensils and towels."

"Then what are we going to put in Kitchen 3? Once you take out the towels, all it has is the tea kettle."

The tea kettle was a gift from Yukimura's uncle and rusting on the inside. Seiichi only kept it because it was on a high shelf and too much of a bother to recycle. "Toss the tea kettle in with the recyclables; we've got the electric kettle anyway. We'll put towels and utensils in Kitchen 3."

Shiraishi went to the refrigerator and consulted their trash pickup schedule. "When is the metal recyclables day? I don't see it listed."

"We can just take it to a convenience store and leave it near the trash can." When he was younger, Seiichi was responsible for disposing of strange items for his mother so that she wouldn't lose face in the neighborhood by getting her recyclables rejected. Leaving non-burnable trash at the convenience store was one of his special skills.

"I'm a public figure; I can't just ditch my trash at a convenience store. What kind of headline would that make?"

"One that would lead to reform in our garbage disposal system, I would hope. Do you have any idea what a pain it is at the hospital to dispose of all our waste products? We have seven containers at the nurse's station alone." The poor cafeteria had it worse; they had to sort through the bins of food and other matter or risk the hospital being fined.

"Can we please focus on getting the kitchen packed? The moving company is coming the day after tomorrow and we haven't sealed a single box yet."

If Yukimura were the only one packing, everything would be done by now. Saying that out loud would hurt Shiraishi's feelings, though. Kuranosuke spent three days creating their Master Moving Agenda And Boxing Manifest. He took inventory of everything in the apartment and allocated each item into a box to which he then gave very uncreative names. Seiichi was starting to doubt that Shiraishi had ever actually moved a household on his own.

"I'll finish in the kitchen," Yukimura said, still wrapping utensils. "Why don't you start in on the living room?" Shiraishi bought vacuum seal bags for their throw pillows and blankets. He claimed they would save space in the boxes. Yukimura'd used those bags the last time he moved and, after an hour of trying to get the vacuum and the bag to cooperate, he vowed he would never use them again. Pillows and blankets should be shoved into a box, held closed, and then taped with enough tape to keep the box closed through a nuclear winter.

"I'll leave the kitchen list on the counter." Shiraishi slid the list on the scant amount of counter right in front of Yukimura's utensil wrapping station.

When Shiraishi was out of sight, Yukimura quickly finished wrapping and then set about placing kitchen items into boxes. What had taken Shiraishi's list 11 boxes to pack only took Yukimura 5.

*****

The new house was horrible. Not only were the hardwood floors considerably more drafty than the decaying carpet in the apartment, but the house was big enough to allow Shiraishi his own room. Seeing his things brought in from storage was awkward and, while Shiraishi wouldn't admit it aloud, he was having trouble falling asleep in the eerie quiet.

"Morning," Yukimura called from the kitchen table, his eyes glued to the news on the tablet he'd stolen from Shiraishi.

Seiichi didn't seem to have any problems sleeping. If anything, he was looking extra radiant now that they were fully moved in. Shiraishi hoped it was because the house was within walking distance of the hospital and Seiichi's commute was considerably shorter, but he had a gut twisting suspicion that the reason Seiichi was so bright eyed these days was because he no longer had to trip over Shiraishi's futon or deal with Shiraishi's occasional snoring.

Shiraishi ambled to the fridge and pulled out the ingredients for breakfast. "The usual?"

"Yes, please."

Was this how it was going to be from now on? Were they just going to see each other at breakfast and dinner? Maybe Seiichi would get a TV for his room, too, and they wouldn't even be sharing that time. "Two or three eggs?"

"Two. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, so my stomach's a bit upset."

"Oh?" That he felt somewhat hopeful at the news was a bit pathetic. "I've been having some problems, too," he offered when Seiichi didn't say anything else. "It takes a while to get used to a new place."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it."

Shiraishi whisked the eggs with a little extra force. "Yeah, must be."

*****

"I need to buy a new bed," Yukimura announced while he and Shiraishi watched the final episode of their drama. "My mattress is losing its firmness. I was thinking of getting a bigger frame while I was at it since my room is bigger." Despite his casual tone, Yukimura'd practiced the words in his head over and over for the last week. Shiraishi mentioned that having a home office would mean he wouldn't have to go into the main office as much, but they didn't have the space at the moment now that both Yukimura and Shiraishi's things were in the house.

"Make sure you get a better quality mattress this time. The funds from that talk show we did should come through soon." A commercial came on and Shiraishi closed his eyes and leaned his head on Yukimura's shoulder. "I'm so glad this thing's over. Now maybe the other guys will shut up with all the vampire jokes."

Seiichi tilted his head to rest against Shiraishi's. "And maybe everyone who comes into the hospital will stop reciting all your lines at me." It was cute the first ten or twenty times, but now even the creepy hobos were running up to him. "Anyway, if you want to move back into my room once I get the bed, we can turn yours into an office." Yukimura's headrest moved.

"We got rid of the futon." Shiraishi was either playing dumb or really was an idiot. These days it was pretty hard to tell one from the other.

"I'm aware." Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up. He was pretty sure it was what Shiraishi wanted, what with all the "I can't sleep it's so quiet here" comments, but maybe what Kuranosuke really wanted was a fountain or a white noise machine.

"We'd be sharing a room again."

"That was the idea, yes."

Shiraishi used a finger to guide Yukimura's chin until they were looking directly at one another. "Sharing a bed."

"You should have been a detective; you're wasted as an idol." Yukimura found himself smiling despite the rapid hammering of his heart in his chest. 

"I just wanted to make sure you were saying what I was hearing." Shiraishi shifted in closer, wrapping his arm around Yukimura and pulling him in tight. "We can go look for something tomorrow after you get off of work. I'll draft up a floorplan for our room." Shiraishi buried his face in Yukimura's hair. "Our room in our house," he whispered.

"Quiet. The show's back on." 

On the screen, Romero ran across a plaza to fold Makoto in his arms. As a fountain roared behind them, they embraced.

"I've waited so long to be here with you like this," Shiraishi whispered in Yukimura's ear in sync with the TV. "You can't imagine how I've dreamed of this moment."

Yukimura and Makoto turned as one. "I never imagined I would feel like this," they said. "I feel you now, feel you so deep in my soul that I know nothing, not even death, will keep us apart."


End file.
